


Have You Met Ted?

by speccygeekgrrl



Category: How I Met Your Mother
Genre: Crossdressing, Drunk Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 19:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11237244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: Barney thought that Ted getting dates would be a good thing. He didn't expect how jealous he'd be. Lily concocts a cunning plan to re-capture Ted's attention. (This plan involves a lot of alcohol.)





	Have You Met Ted?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 2005. Missed it in my conversion from LJ to AO3. 
> 
> Consent issues surrounding people being totally fucking plastered, if that's a thing you need warning for.

It started when Lily went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and found Barney asleep in the tub for the third time that month. Honestly, by then she was more pitying than upset about it; Ted had been spending more time with ladies he met at the bar, and the blond was apparently not handling the success of his myriad plans to get Ted hooked up well. If by not well one meant 'going on blackout benders'. At least he didn't throw up all over the place.

It seemed strange, though, that after all the time he put into teaching Ted to get chicks, Barney would be so depressed when Ted started taking his advice. Lily thought about it while she brushed her teeth, and with floss came understanding. Of course. Barney wasn't depressed, he was _jealous_...

He was suspicious, too, when Lily woke him up sweetly, smiling and offering him toast and advil for his hangover. When she offered to iron his rumpled shirt for him, he backed up against the refrigerator, clearly fearful.

"What are you-- you poisoned me, didn't you? Those weren't pain relievers, those were rat poison," he hedged a guess, making the diminutive redhead laugh and shake her head.

"No! Barney, come on, can't I do something nice for you? You're so, I don't know, sad all the time..." Lily pulled him away from the kitchen, pushed him down on the couch and pouted down at him. "It's Ted, isn't it," she asked sympathetically. The blond's little whimper of defeat was startling to say the least.

"I... need a drink," Barney sighed, covering his eyes with one hand. Lily's brows rose, and she sat down next to him, a sneaky little smirk on while he couldn't see it. 

"You don't need a drink, you need a plan. A plan to get Ted's attention." She patted his shoulder softly. "Trust Lily, Barn. Trust Lily and her incredible planmaking skills. If I can wrangle a roomful of kindergardeners, Ted is no problem."

Barney, to his misfortune, was both too miserable and too hungover to argue.

\---

"You're shitting me."

"Purse your damn lips and shut up," Lily ordered cheerfully, brandishing a very pink shade of lipstick menacingly at Barney's mouth. "Come on, you're going to pussy out this close to being done? That's not the Barney I know." His lip curled in a little sneer, but he held still for her to apply the color to his lips, a surprisingly demure shade once it was actually on his skin.

"The Barney you know is an incredibly suave and attractive man with the kind of figure made to fill a quality suit, not a..." He looked down at himself, pinstriped jacket and matching skirt hanging just above his knees, legs disturbingly smooth-- he'd passed out when Lily suggested shaving them, that was a bad move-- and classic pumps on his feet, hard to find in his size. "Not the kind of hot chick he'd usually be taking home. Damn, I look good in this, don't I?"

"Disturbingly, yes," Marshall chipped in, leaning around the doorway to peek over Lily's head.

"Hey! You! Out! This is girl time," Lily snapped, shooing her fiance out and coming back over to Barney with a mascara wand. "Now, we're almost done. You know what the plan is, riiiight?"

"I'm going to sit in the corner and you're going to _steal my game,_ " he said in an accusing tone, "and 'have you met Ted' right into my table." Blue eyes looked a little too pretty with darkened lashes and a touch of eyeshadow, even if the look he was aiming up at Lily was mistrusting. "He's not going to-- he's going to freak out. You know Ted. He's going to take one look at me and run out the door."

"Okay, that part of the group dynamic where someone thinks too much and puts himself down? Doesn't belong to you. You look fine, and by the time Ted gets to you, he'll be too drunk to notice you're his best friend, because Marshall's going shot-for-shot with him." Lily straightened Barney's wig, adjusting the blond curls around his face, and patted his cheek encouragingly. "Don't worry. He won't be able to take his eyes off of you." Probably in amusement, she amended mentally, and pulled him out of the bathroom behind her. 

"Ready to go?" Marshall was waiting by the door, one hand over his mouth protectively. Barney scowled as he lost control over the urge to laugh.

\---

"More tequila!" Marshall cheered loudly, over Ted's slurred and quieter protests. "One more round. C'mon."

"Honey, nooo. Look at Ted, he can barely sit up!" Lily protested, and Ted shut up and snatched a shot off the tray as their last round came up.

"To-- abshent friend," he declared solemnly-- and incredibly drunkenly-- before tossing back his shot and shaking his head. The fiancees shared a glance, and Lily nudged Ted with her shoulder gently.

"Hey, a blonde! You haven't gone after a blonde in a while, come on, get up." She herded him none-too-subtly over, dropping him across from the disguised Barney with a cheery "Hi, have you met Ted?" and a wink before retreating back to Marshall's lap.

"Hi," Ted said, smiling over at the lady-- familiar looking lady, sort of, maybe. Not really. "I'm Ted."

"Nice to meet you," Barney leaned closer, a little, lipstick faded from two or three fruity girly drinks, the kind of thing he loved to drink and had an excuse to now. "I'm--"

"Wait, don' tell me," Ted interrupted, "We wen't'school t'gether, right? Alison?"

"Sure," Barney agreed, relieved to not have to lie too much on his own. Ted grinned broader, one hand clumsily covering Barney's on the table.

"Hi. Wow, you got pretty..." For a moment, their eyes met, and Barney felt absolutely, deadly sure that Ted could see right through the disguise, through his tequila goggles, through all the crazy schemes and needy declarations of friendship, through all of that to the terrified guy who was stupidly in love with him. Then Ted pulled his hand closer and kissed the back of it, a little wetly. "Really pretty."

"Thanks," Barney breathed, trying so hard to keep his voice up, anything but recognizable. It didn't matter in a second, his own fear and impatience and slight buzz working to push him over the table and against his best friend's lips, quickly, just a little kiss. Or so he intended. Ted's sloppy, drunk enthusiasm followed him back as he tried to draw away, tequila-and-lime tongue and salt-tinged lips and all the wetness and heat Barney had ever imagined when he thought about one day kissing Ted.

Skirts were obviously made for women because there was no give in them at all to hide a hard-on, he realized. Ted's eyes were closed when he sat back, licking the last of the salt from his lips-- whatever Barney missed-- and smiling dreamily. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm really drunk and I think you should come home with me," he offered, eyes opening a moment later. Barney bit his bottom lip and laughed.

"That's too charming to pass up," he answered, running one pump-covered foot along Ted's ankle coyly. "I'm kind of glad you're drunk," Barney added under his breath, pursing his lips just a little. Oh man, this was-- some serious fucked-up, right here. He'd just wanted Ted's attention, not an invite to his own private pants party. He wasn't even wearing pants. And when Ted found out what was under the skirt, he'd probably be pretty upset...

Fuck it. Thinking was bad, doing was better, and the doing was about to be Ted which was even better than better. The best. "Come on, let's get a cab," he purred, pulling Ted up from his seat and doing his best to keep the tent in his skirt out of everyone's line of sight, but mostly out of Ted's.

\---

Ted was very drunk, or very bad at telling a man in a dress from a woman, or didn't care that he was sucking very close to Barney's Adam's apple. Or all three. Barney wasn't going to complain, a hickey might be the best thing he got out of the night. Second best. The kissing was definitely the best, boozy and messy and perfect kisses that he'd be dreaming about for years. Maybe the hickey would be third place, because Ted didn't seem to mind that his friend's hands were wandering, even though he thought it was a girl and not Barney who was groping him.

Drunk, Barney decided, it was all about the drunk, he was too drunk to realize that it was him because he'd gone into Ted's pocket, picked out his door key unerringly, steered him right past the couch and into Ted's bedroom with none of the hesitation of a random bar chick. But he couldn't wait, he wouldn't waste time, who knew when Ted would hit that point of too sober to ignore the facts and kick Barney out?

The spot Ted had sucked red felt hot on Barney's throat, hotter than the burn of his cheeks as he shoved his friend's pants down just enough to pull him out and stroke, the last vestige of pink on his lips wearing away as he licked them and bent his head to kiss, tentatively, at the side of his cock. It was the girly drinks, or the skirt, or the-- no. He couldn't excuse away the fact that he was definitely, if unskillfully, blowing his best friend; that was all him, even if he wasn't gay. He loved the ladies... he just loved Ted a little more.

"Nngh," Ted said, "Alison," hips pressing against Barney's hands, hands threading through the curls of the wig, trying to be a little pushy, a little demanding, but just ending up with a shallow little suck and a double handful of blond hair, revealing a high forehead, sweat-spiked and short blond hair underneath the wig. Barney looked up, wide scared eyes and lips stretched around Ted; the drunk man stared down, mouth hanging open. "...Barney?" he breathed, looking down at his friend on his knees, made-up and ridiculous and amazing, shocking enough to break past alcohol and denial and the last layer of need. " _Fuck_ ," he came with barely more than a sigh, face twisted in what could have been disgust, or anger... or pleasure, or simply surprise.

Barney couldn't tell; he was too distracted orchestrating swallowing and breathing and hanging onto Ted's legs and not running away to analyze the passing emotion on Ted's face. His eyes closed, compensating; he swallowed until there was nothing left, like taking shots except not at all, and turned his cheek against Ted's thigh to pant for breath. The silence stretched between them, broken by two sets of ragged breath.

Slowly, Ted pushed the wig the rest of the way away, letting it fall down Barney's back as he stroked his friend's real hair. And just as slowly, Barney tipped his head into Ted's touch, staring up at him from his place kneeling on the floor. "Surprise," the blond offered weakly, a touch hoarsely. Ted's lips quirked up at the corner slightly.

"You-- come here," Ted murmured, falling back on his bed and reaching to drag Barney with him. His hands fluttered a little, clumsily, touching a reddened cheek and a shiny-swollen lip and the mark he'd sucked into his friend's neck in the cab, Lily's borrowed necklace and the blouse under the skirt-suit coat. Barney closed his eyes at the gentle brush over blue-tinged lids, opened them again at a second touch to his lips. "Sorry," Ted finally said, something strange and choked in his voice.

"I missed you," Barney said quietly, muffled into Ted's shoulder when he ducked his head. "Things just aren't legendary without you around, Ted." It was inane, it was ridiculous, he could still taste Ted at his back teeth alongside a strawberry daquiri from in the bar, and the hand on his hip, the arms around him, the fingertips going under the edge of his skirt were not doing a goddamn thing to help the fact that he'd been hard as hell for the past hour and his straight best friend was apparently straight in the same way he was, that is to say, not very where it came to each other.

He was cool with that, really.


End file.
